In Remembrance of Glory
by The-Despondent-Insomniac
Summary: A broken Queen sits by her window looking out at the stars and remembers a time when things were different...when she wasnt broken and when He was by her side and they were happy...but she knows things will never be the same so she wills herself to forget


**so im not really sure what i was doing with this fic...i just sort of started writing and this is what i ended up with lol...its not exactly my best work but whatever. it was two in the morning i hadnt slept in three days and...well this is the result i guess lol**

**i hope you enjoy in anyways, its a bit plotless im afraid :S lol**

**xoxox**

**Becca**

As she watches the fiery sunset from the tiny kitchen window of their small Finchley house she remembers the look in his eyes as his head slowly inched towards her own. She remembers the burning fire in them as they locked on her from across a crowded ballroom, making her flush purple and quickly excuse herself from whoever's arms she was dancing in. She remembers the glow in them as he lowered her gently into his bed the night of their wedding. She remembers the joy in them that first night when they found themselves back again after a treacherously long year away. She remembers the jealousy in them when he noticed Caspian's obvious interest in her. She remembers the despair in them when he saw the realisation in hers that they could never return again. She remembers the hurt in them when she kissed Caspian goodbye.

But mostly she remembers the flames of passion that filled them for seventeen years whenever he looked at her. Back when she was his wife, when she was the high Queen and he the King. Back when his eyes flamed brighter than any sunset she, the Southern sun could create. His eyes don't flame anymore.

As she watches him chase Lucy around the small patch of grass they call a garden nowadays she remembers grass stains on his shirt from rolling in the sprawling pastures of the palace grounds. She remembers them on her dresses too, from laughingly chasing him and being tumbled playfully to the ground: her shrieks of laughter quickly silenced by his lips. She remembers speeding over endless grasslands with him on their huge mounts; sounding her riding horn jokingly as she raced past him. She remembers the feel of the grass beneath her as they camped under the stars upon their return and his warm arms as they sneaked around her in the dead of night. She remembers the feel of the grassy ledge as she tumbled dangerously onto it and his terrified face below her. She remembers picnics on the lawns of her private gardens on heady summer afternoons.

She remembers him chasing _her_ around the gardens. But that wouldn't be proper anymore.

She watches the dull stars from her dirty bedroom window at night- the pane blackened by soot from the chimney- and she remembers nights under the blazing Narnian stars, back when they were happy. She remembers lying gracefully on a rich blanket beneath the glistening sky and being fed grapes from his teasing mouth. She remembers lying in their bed happily gazing out of the window and thanking each and every one of the diamond- like lights she could see for her happiness. She remembers them following the North-Star as far as they could one night- both of them racing across Narnian land from sunset till dawn while everyone else slept, their laughter and gentle whispers being their only entourage that night. She remembers falling asleep afterwards; wrapped tightly in his arms and in his cloak while they both watched the last twinkling light disappear for the night.

She remembers wishing on the stars one night that everyone in her Kingdom could be as happy as they were together.

As she watched him play battle Edmund in the garden with wooden swords she remembers how mighty he was back in Narnia. How valiantly he fought with his real sword glimmering in the light. She remembers how he had to fight off more than one overly persistent suitor, how she had insisted on being the one to patch him up again afterwards: shooing the healers from the room while she gently rubbed salves into his wounds- each mark being sealed with a softly placed kiss. She remembers how dangerously he wielded his sword during battles, worrying his opponents with his daring moves and terrifying her as she watched from the corner of her eye; her own skills being used to decimate the numbers of their enemies from the archers' lines. She remembers the way he had looked in wonder as his sword was first placed in his hand; years before anything more than sisterly affection had warmed her blood at the sight. She remembers how on their wedding day he had taken off his sword and presented it to her as a gift. Tears had filled her eyes at the sight: it was his most prized possession and he was giving it to her. She had kissed the blade sincerely and handed it back, kissing him passionately as she did so.

She remembers how he had clutched that sword to his chest when they returned, looking at it in wonder, a reminiscing gleam in his eye. She remembers how he gripped it when he realised they would have to leave. He gripped her hand just as tightly as they walked through the gateway.

She hears him laugh politely at their aunt's joke during a dinner party and remembers the way he used to laugh in Narnia: full bodied and happy. He doesn't laugh like that anymore, none of them do.

She remembers hearing his laugh echo off of ancient stone walls as they played hide and seek in their first years as rulers of Narnia; finding all the secret passages Cair Paravel had to offer and spending hours exploiting them for fun. Being a King wasn't **all **about battle plans and boring dinners. She remembers hearing his laugh rumble from deep in his chest and the way it heated her blood to a boil on nights when clothes were unheard of and sleep was forsaken in favour of much more interesting ways to burn up the darkness. She remembers his laugh on the nights he returned from battles; harsh and bitter at their losses. All she could do on nights like those was hold him until he grew calm. They would both spend the rest of those nights praying to Aslan for the souls of the dead, both their Narnian brothers and their fallen enemies.

She remembers his laugh the day she agreed to marry him: disbelieving and joyous and overwhelmed and delighted. She loved that laugh the best of all. She hadn't heard it in years, and probably never would again but she still remembers every single second of it. She remembers how he almost barked it out in relief at her answer and how it rose in pitch as the realisation hit him. She remembers how it lowered into a heady chuckle as he caught her eyes with his- his own as bright and shining as her own- until it slowly faded out into a deep sigh of contentment as his lips sought out hers in the most passionate kiss he had ever given her.

Yes, she remembers that laugh the most and she almost begins to weep right there and then – at her aunts dinner table, in front of her parents, her aunt and uncle and all her aunts other guests. In front of Him and Edmund and Lucy-when she remembers that she will never again get the chance to see him that happy- will never again be the cause of such happiness.

Susan remembers everything there is to remember about Narnia: she remembers her throne in the mighty Cair Paravel where she was crowned and later married by the legendary lion Aslan. She remembers her court, all the ladies who waited on her hand and foot; wood nymphs, dryads, centaurs, fauns, Mrs. Beaver. She remembers her elegant chambers where she spent hours chatting and laughing with her friends and Lucy, remembers the magnificent gardens she herself helped design and the heady scent of the roses as she raced through them.

She remembers her brother; King Edmund the Just and her sister; Queen Lucy the Valiant. She remembers the little peasant children- orphaned by the white witch- she brought to the castle one Christmas; remembers every one of their shining, hopeful, delighted faces as they were wrapped in fur cloaks and given a present under the ancient Christmas tree Lucy had charmed out of the Narnian woods. She remembers the name of every single maid she ever had, the children of every cook, the grandchildren of her favourite seamstress. She remembers the colour of the dress she wore to her coronation, the first ball she ever hosted- both as a Queen in her own right and as Peter's bride.

She remembers the number of pins it took to finally make Lucy's hair stay in place the first time she pinned it up as a lady instead of the little girl she had been when they first arrived. She remembers the first time Edmund came to her asking for advice about a wood nymph he was infatuated with and the last time she ever saw a Narnian sunset.

Susan remembers everything there is to remember about Narnia, but most of all she remembers Him, Peter- her husband and high King and all the years they spent together: laughing and playing, arguing and loving, celebrating and mourning, dancing and weeping.

Susan remembers everything. It's **them** who have **truly** forgotten. So if she pretends not to know what they are talking about when they play their games of Narnia it is not because **she** has forgotten, but because they have. Because **He **has forgotten that the most magical thing about Narnia was _Them_.

She watches the sunset from her tiny bedroom window in Finchley and she watches the stars as they grow duller and duller with every night that passes. She watches Peter chasing Lucy playfully around their garden and she listens to him laughing along to their aunt's jokes. And every night when she goes to her bed- alone and missing his warmth next to her- she looks at the dull, dull stars and she prays to Aslan to make him remember. But he never does. So she pretends to forget instead. And every time he catches her eye across a room or glances up to see her watching him and she sees the muted shine to his eyes, the lost brilliance and the forgotten ecstasy; she tries to make herself forget just a little more- until all that is left is the remembrance of forgotten glory and a broken Queen.


End file.
